


Tangled Limbs

by stephtron312



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, because liddy and i thought spencer looked way too hot in the trailer to not hook up with everyone, orgy smutfest, plus i threw in a little femslash on the side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 10:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4389077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephtron312/pseuds/stephtron312
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer just wanted to return Carol's dish. He didn't expect all this to happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangled Limbs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlannasTara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlannasTara/gifts).



> So Liddym2113 and I got a little too excited about Spencer's .2 second appearance in the S6 trailer and what started as a joke that he should hook up with all the ladies, turned into this mess of a fic. I'll have you know that writing orgy's is a hard task to take up and it's possible that not everyone's limbs are doing logical things. Anyway, if you dare to read this, I hope you like it!! Thanks for being as weird as I am and checking it out!

*+

Whatever he was expecting to happen, it wasn’t this.

He was just tired of sitting in that house, his mother whimpering with a picture of Reg clutched at her chest and Aiden’s shit music blasting like some horrible eulogy to his memory. He just couldn’t take it anymore and when he saw the casserole dish, still full and oozing with the food Deanna had refused to accept, he finally had an excuse to walk out on her.

The bright porch light reflected off the clean glass. He had scrubbed it spotless, using the few minutes he spent cleaning it to debate how awful of a son he’d be leaving his mother alone to her misery. But he didn’t plan on being longer than an hour, and that was including the lazy pace he used to stroll the long way to the far off corner house.

He knocked, waiting for the voices inside to still and let him in. The chattering kept on uninterrupted, and if he hadn’t have been so desperate for some kind of interaction he would have just left. But he needed something, _anything_ , to get his mind off of everything that went down over the past few days. Even if it was pretending to feign interest in that sweet woman Carol’s cooking technique. He’d let her ramble over every inch of that recipe if it meant keeping him from having to head home.

Knocking a bit louder, he grabbed the knob and turned, holding the door close to him as he poked half his body through the opening.

“I’m just so _tired_ of this Carol. He’s a grown ass man, I shouldn’t have to keep him in check like this,” there was so much strain in Michonne’s voice that Spencer felt a pang of guilt hit through him.

“I know, I know,” Carol’s voice sounded now, soothing but with an odd edge to it that he wasn’t used to.

“Of course you know,” came a scoff from Michonne, “If you weren’t constantly watching Daryl’s ass he’d have up and gone months ago. Aren’t you exhausted of doing it?”

No one said anything after that, and Spencer felt a moment of discomfort settling over the entire house. This was obviously a private conversation and finding his head back in place, Spencer started to glide the door shut. An excruciating squeal whined from the hinge that made him wince. It stilled the air of the house in a different way, and careful footsteps advanced towards him.

Carol rounded the corner, a look of fire and heat melded in her features before she softened at his sight. She seemed like a completely different person in those few moments.

“Hello?” she questioned him, head tilted slightly and that sweet grin playing at her lips. He noticed, albeit brashly, that her loose sweater was gone. He had no idea she had such a tight body but it showed through the camisole she wore.

Just behind her stood Michonne, her arm dropping slowly, and he was sure she had been brandishing her sword. He shuddered to think of it, and a flash of blood dripping off its steel rattled through him. She disappeared behind the wall, and took the vision with her.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he started but trailed off when a third figure entered the room.

“Spencer?”

Sasha stood at the threshold between the kitchen and the hall where he and Carol were. Her hair was down, voluptuous in its curly wave. She still wore that same ill-fitting army jacket that he only saw her once without, and a pair of boxer shorts.

Michonne slid back into the hall, and he caught a sight of her backside, in what looked like a pair of bicycle shorts, the lean frame of her torso hugged by a grey muscle tank.

They all stared at him. Three extraordinarily beautiful women, and the world seemed just a little bit off.

“What are you doing here?”

It took Sasha speaking again for Spencer to realize he hadn’t answered. They were all just standing, fixating.

His hand fumbled slightly as he stretched the glass dish to Carol. “I was just bringing this back,” he said, the words sticking to his throat.

The thermostat had to be broken in this house because he felt like he was burning.

She took it from him, that sweet smile still plastered on her face. It wasn’t right all of a sudden, all the innocent, fragile thoughts everyone had about her. And he knew just from the way that her hips swayed as she walked to the kitchen, with a confident air, that they had been very wrong. There was strength in her arms, the muscles taut beneath her skin as she held the plate in one hand. The look she darted towards Michonne, the barest nod of her head, the way her eyes fell dark like she was used to holding secrets.

It was all wrong.

It wasn’t just Carol, though. Michonne felt different too. The dried salt of tear tracks stuck to her cheek. Flecks of vulnerability spotted the warmth of her tawny eyes when she returned Carol’s glance. She always looked so noble, sturdy when in her Constable uniform. He knew she wasn’t someone he wanted to get on the wrong side of. But, right here, standing in front of him, she looked incredibly tender, and just a little bit sad.

Sasha took two hesitant steps towards him, her bare foot dragging across the tiled floor. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He nodded weakly, hardly able to look at her without imaging the delicate fall of that dress she wore to the cocktail party. The way the spaghetti straps held against her, the flare of the skirt at her knees. He licked his lips, trying to keep them from drying out completely.

“Sorry to barge in,” he said when Carol reappeared, her arms crossed over the curve of her breasts, pushing them up ever so slightly.

A clatter from the living room caught their attention and they all turned to look. Michonne’s katana had fallen from its place where she leaned it against the wall.

He could see the red blood dripping.

“Spencer, I’m so sorry,” someone said but he was just focused on the sword.

A hand touched his shoulder. Another on his chest. They converged on him, surrounding him until the tiniest of hairs stood at his neck from their closeness.

“Spencer?” the same voice called again.

He just needed a distraction.

Without thinking, he leaned forward, rushing to the closest lips to him. Carol’s mouth parted, a surprised gasp dying between where his tongue met hers. His left hand reached up to the hand on his shoulder, gripping his finger’s around Michonne’s wrist, thumb brushing across her pounding pulse. His right fingers fanned against Sasha’s tummy.

He pulled back from his and Carol’s kiss, looking between the three women, his face falling farther as he looked at each one.

“I’m sorry,” he said, breathless, chest heaving in a mix of anxiety and need. “It’s just…I’ve been…”

Another quick glance between Carol and Michonne, while Sasha’s eyes stayed fixed on his, the turmoil crumbling away at him. She fit her fingers around his, keeping them pressed to her belly.

Before he could think of what else to do and what else to say, Carol shoved him. Hard. His back hit the door, closing it with a loud click and a shudder. There was absolutely nothing frail about this woman. Her hands pressing to his chest, feeling the thick muscles beneath his button up shirt like she hadn’t had the luxury of such a sensation in years, she kissed him again. Her lips moved slow against him, taking in every hint of salt and flesh he had to offer her. She kissed him with such calculated hesitance that it made him want to writhe into something more feverish.

Carol took her time, savoring every inch of his lips on hers. She stopped just as languidly, keeping her lips to his at the barest of touch. Taking a step back, a devil of a smirk teasing him, she nodded to Michonne.

He didn’t have time to process what had happened when Michonne’s kiss enveloped him. It was immersive, the way her lips flipped between short, needy pecks and full, drawn out kisses. Her shallowed breathes amidst the two different paces made his body tighten. His hands went to her neck, rooting himself at the base of her skull and pulling her even closer.

At that, Michonne slinked away from him. They both looked to Sasha, who had still been holding tight to Spencer’s hand, shock and curiosity stilling her beyond any ability to flee.

“World’s already ended,” Carol said with casual assuredness that relaxed Spencer into whatever it was he had gotten himself into. If she said it was alright, then it must be.

Michonne’s breasts pressed against his arm as she full-body nudged him a step closer to where Sasha stood. “No point in hiding behind old taboos and insecurities,” she added. Spencer looked back to her, her head bobbing ever slightly, her hands trailing down his bicep, letting him know it was okay.

He turned to Sasha, pulling her close in one strong drag, and kissing her as deeply as he could.

They moved to the living room in a weave of limbs, hands grabbing at pieces of clothing and disregarding them to haphazard piles. He wasn’t even sure whose hand was whose at this point.

Stumbling and crawling they dragged each other down to the carpeted floor in front of the couch. Half naked and already out of breathe, they had found themselves at a crossroad. Each waiting for the next person to take them further passed the line they had crossed, where this would all turn into so much more than three separate make out sessions occurring at the same time.

Frustration ate away at Carol’s gut, a tension that drained her everyday she had to spend with Daryl, falling farther away from his touch. She wanted to feel it, the brush of a body against hers and if she couldn’t have the one she wanted, then she would be damned before let three perfectly good opportunities get away from her.

She placed her hand, firm but soft, against Spencer’s cheek. Her thumb brushed against the stubble of his cheek, how dark and young it was compared to some other grey streaked beards she could think of. She allowed him one quick kiss, lavishing in the small whine he made involuntarily and the way his lips puckered towards her as she moved away. She kept a hand on his chest, angling away from him and stared into Michonne’s eyes, her gaze flicking towards her lips.

She loved Michonne. They were each other’s life lines, and right now they were embittered. Neither of them needed to feel like they were being cast aside, like they were nothing more than a glorified babysitter to a grown ass man. She cupped the other woman’s face, reveling in how differently her soft cheek felt than Spencer’s. She inched forward, giving Michonne plenty of time and space to evade her. But she didn’t, instead closing her own fingers around Carol’s and closed her eyes in anticipation. Their lips connected and there was no turning back after that.

Spencer reached forward, hand trailing down Carol’s back as she kissed Michonne. He adjusted himself against the couch, leaning against it as he sat up on his knees. Pulling on arm around Carol’s waist he tugged her back towards him. Flat against his abs and chest, she settled her ass against his crotch as she mimicked his kneeling pose. Michonne had crawled over with her, holding her hand over where Spencer’s was tightly gripped on Carol’s hip. They curled their fingers together, keeping their clasped hands against the older woman’s curve as Michonne continued to kiss her.

Teeth grazing across her skin as he nipped and kissed down the back of Carol’s neck and spine, Spencer found Sasha with his free hand. Carol started to grind against his hardening dick, the two sensations of Spencer behind her and Michonne in front of her causing her skin to tingle. When Michonne pulled away, needing to gulp at the air and catch her breath, Carol didn’t even miss a beat. She grabbed at Michonne’s waist, pulling her as close as possible and sucking gently at the side of her neck. Michonne twisted her neck, giving Carol more access. Over Carol’s shoulder, she met Spencer’s lips as he continued to rock against Carol’s ass.

His fingers tiptoed their way to Sasha, who’s tensed up energy had released her into a shy, reserved version of herself as she sat beside the trio, taking in the sight. Spencer brushed against her knee, moving further up her thigh. He tugged at the leg of the boxer shorts, and after the second pull she assisted him in removing them. He found his way to her panties, brushing his fingers against her center before baring down a bit harder to rub her through the cotton material.

Sasha moaned louder than she had meant to, and it broke them all of their hazy bewitchment for just a moment as they turned to look at her.

“What the hell’s going on?!”

The exclamation really pulled them out of the moment, and they twisted all too quickly to look at the figures on the staircase.

Rosita stood, hands held defiantly at her exposed hip, her too tight tank top having bunched around her waist. Tara stood one step above her, in nothing but a loose t-shirt that barely covered her ass. Her mouth gaped at the half naked clump muddled together on the living room floor.

“Rosie, we should go,” she tried to say but Rosita had pieced it all together and was stamping down the rest of the stairs.

She walked defiantly, causing Spencer to swallow hard as he was completely intimidated by her. With one sweeping look she eyed the disheveled state of her friends before dropping to her knees. Crawling up to Spencer she kissed him, hard, biting his bottom lip as she pulled away.

“What about Abraham?” Sasha asked beside her, breathy and uneven as Spencer’s hand had yet to leave her.

She laughed, the air from her lips breezing against Spencer’s bare chest and making him shudder. Looking back at Sasha, she smirked wickedly.

“Who the fuck cares?” she giggled, holding her hands against Sasha’s cheeks and kissing her.

Tara turned to head back to her room, not being able to handle the oozing heat she felt between her legs. She had one foot on the next step when her name was called out.

“Where are you going?” Carol asked her, her eyes low and mischievous as she held her gaze. Tara’s nightshirt was discarded before she even fully made it down the stairs. She looked at Spencer when she reached them, squatting in the space between him and Rosita.

“I’m not kissing you,” she waved a finger at him, sidling closer to Carol and leaving a bite on her shoulder.

They moved together, maneuvering around each other and sharing one another effortlessly. Hands roamed generously and they had all lost track of who they were touching and who was touching them at various point.

Spencer scooched away from his space at the edge, where he had been reveling between Michonne and Rosita’s breasts. He looked at them, at these incredibly gorgeous women and thought, selfishly, that if the world was going to end this was the best way for it to go.

He wanted to do more for them, for all of them. Slowly they realized he had stopped participating and they each in turn gazed at him. Waiting.

“Come here,” he said to no one in particular, but it was Sasha who crawled towards him first. They kissed, taking their time with it. Spencer trailed feather light kisses down her neck, between the passage of her breast and onto the soft of her belly. His hand scooped between her legs, spreading her knees apart. Positioning himself beneath her, he lifted his head up, his abs contracting as he did, and laid a tender kiss to the patch of hair hiding her center.

“Michonne,” he breathed next, beckoning with a curled finger for her to come settle beside him. She did, his hand working across her thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps. His thumb brushed against her swollen clit and she shivered, biting her lip to keep the sounds that squeezed in her chest to cry out.

With Sasha still hovering above his face, he twisted his head just barely. Looking to Rosita, she shook her head, settling into the corner of the couch with her hand already tucked between her legs. He smiled at her, understanding her need to just take it all in for a bit.

“Carol?” he breathed out, but she was already slithering towards him, back arched like a lioness as she prowled closer. She planted a kiss to the center of his sculpted abs, spreading across his lap and taking his hardened dick into her hand. She dragged her hand languidly.

He stilled, laying his head against the carpet and allowing three shallow breathes to pass. He nodded to her then, and she worked herself on top of him, taking her time until he was buried deep within. She anchored her hands on his chest to get the last of his depth. The feeling rushed to his head and he could have died right then and been happy about it.

As she gave the first roll of her hips, he pulled Sasha down to his mouth, licking her gently. With his hand cupped around Michonne, he rubbed at her clip, passing his index finger along the length of her until she was wet enough for him to enter inside her. Rosita’s pants were short, and sweet, as she watched them, rubbing herself and it only made every surge of Carol’s hips feel that much better.

Sasha came first, fast and messy and she melted over him. Climbing off her face she collapsed against the wall, panting and needing a few seconds to herself to come down from the high she felt.

Michonne was next, three fingers deep inside her and his thumb dancing figure eights around her clit. She heaved her pants, vocal with a string of affirmations, tightened around his hand and writhing until she pushed his hand away from her

Carol was still on top of him, riding at a steady, even pace. He was too exhausted to help her along, hands too fatigued to do much more than hold her hips in place, tongue too tired to anything but whisper his testimony to her. She needed more though, just an extra touch to get her to orgasm.

At her back she could feel the warmth of another. Breaking concentration, she froze, turning to the body pressed behind her. Tara ran her thumb across Carol’s swollen lips, kissing her gently. Her thumb swept down the long center of her body, coming to a stop at the crux of her thigh. Growing rougher with every stroke, Tara circled around Carol’s clit until she started to rock against Spencer again.

As Tara went faster so did Carol, her orgasm coming in a growl, nails scratching hard against his chest. She rode out her climax, and Tara gave her neck a quick kiss when she finished.

But he was still hard when Carol removed herself from his lap, her eyes clouded in a way that both frightened and excited him. He closed his own, resting back against the carpet and figuring he’d just let his erection settle itself. He had, in one way or another, just made at least three women cum at the same time and he’d like to know how many other men could say the same.

“Don’t worry,” Rosita’s voice called from afar, getting louder as she drew closer to him. He raised his head just a fraction to look and found that her mouth was dangerously close to his dick.

Sasha’s hands on his shoulders pulled him up to a sitting position. She kissed his neck, her teeth skimming at his earlobe as she nipped and whispered to him. Carol and Michonne sat on either side of him, alternating between his lips and his neck with drawn out kisses that could curl the toes of a dead man. Their fingers traced languid shapes and patterns down his bare chest and stomach.

Rosita took him into her mouth, opposing the slow ways Carol and Michonne treated him with feverish sucking and licking. She began to moan and even he knew that she it was hardly possible that she had been enjoying the blowjob that much. Tara was knelt beside her, her arm moving just as hastily as Rosita’s tongue as she fingered her from behind.

When he came it was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. Sasha cradled him immediately to her chest, her fingers brushing through her hair. Carol and Michonne both tucked beneath his arms, heads resting on his chest as their fingers spread across his stomach, sweeping across him like they were soothing a child. Rosita and Tara laid curled together at his lap, their panting interrupted by a small kisses that reminded them of the reality of it all.

It was an impossible situation but they slicked against each other like a machine. Where their cogs were made of touches both fast and slow, hard and gentle. Maybe it was a few hours wasted on selfish needs, a desire to unbridle all their pent of rage and tension and fear. But at least for that time they didn’t have to feel so solitary, connecting together in a tangle of limbs that felt better than any other safety net they could imagine.


End file.
